


loving strangers

by fworthington



Category: Literature - Fandom
Genre: Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, Female-Centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:39:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4079962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fworthington/pseuds/fworthington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>literature au | sylvia plath and virginia woolf as modern lovers<br/>link for the picspam: http://castatrophe.tumblr.com/post/117789979379/literature-au-sylvia-plath-and-virginia-woolf</p>
            </blockquote>





	loving strangers

**Author's Note:**

> This short story was written based on the au proposal made by Ashley (tumblr user @hevte) in which Virginia Woolf and Sylvia Plath meet in a party. Since they are from different times I decided to make a modern AU. I wrote it in first person through Virginia’s perspective and it was meant to be a short and I ended up cutting a lot of things :( Critics are just as welcome as compliments - and this includes grammar corrections since I'm ESL. I want to thank Andie, Ashley and all the members of The Lit Net for all of the support. That's it, I hope you appreciate it. 
> 
> Lots of love, Kami.

_Having this party was an extremely stupid idea._ I think to myself while smiling to another guest. Vita was holding me by the arm, like she could sense I would runaway if I could. It was comforting to have her around again but it wasn’t enough to make the situation pleasant. “All right, for you were a good girl, we’ll get ourselves some drinks.” She said, conducting me to the bar. We passed through the table were Leonard was having an apparently nice chat with Harold, Clive and Vanessa. They smiled while we passed by and I was able to sense some concern from their eyes, especially Leonard’s. He was quite aware of how much I did not want to be at this party. But Vita insisted. “It is your birthday and I just moved to this new gorgeous house! Please let me spoil you now that we are friends again.” She said a month ago, hiding her sorrow inside the vanity of those expansive clothes and make up. I agreed and here we are. She invited not only all of _our_ friends, but my friends, her friends, her friend’s friends and her new house - beautifully decorated with pastel tones - is now full of intellectuals, artistes, socialites and, of course, "journalists" trying to get a scandalous _article_ about the insane writer who gathered her husband and her mistress at her birthday party.

          I overheard Vita ordering two glasses of white wine while a camera flash almost blinded me. I had a cold grin on my face when I turned to her. She handed me the glass. “I hired a photographer. I don’t want to see bad photos of us on the internet tomorrow. If they’re going to gossip, at least let us be divine.” She said with a naughty smile and my face relaxed a bit. I do miss her, a lot. “Thank you.” I said, simply. “ _Thank you for trying to cheer me up, thank you for trying to help me not lose my mind, thank you for being by my side again, thank you for bringing me back to real life one more time, thank you for loving me and existing for I love you like hell and I miss you. Thank you_ ” – that’s what I wanted to say and when I looked inside her exquisite eyes I could tell she understood. We sat on a table for two next her winter garden. "How’s the new book?” she asked, taking a slip of her wine. “Terrible.” I answered. “Leonard said it’s quite promising.” I rolled my eyes. “Oh, would please stop it?” She rolled her eyes back to me and I smiled. “Honestly, Virginia.” She continued. “Nobody never got too far drowning in self pity, you know? You are a great artist and you’ll always be, stop torturing yourself, for God’s sake!” Though she was still smiling, I could sense a bit of anger in her voice. I sighed. I wasn’t on a mood for an argument.

           I was having this weird sensation, like I was being observed. It didn’t want to say it out loud just to hear: _Of course you are, you are the most interesting birthday girl on this city tonight._ A sweet way Vita would find to remind me of my current situation with the media. But it wasn’t that. I was feeling truly observed. I took a look around the place. All those people smiling, flirting, drinking, dancing like fools. There! A pair of deep grey eyes starring me from across the room. I’ve been looking at those eyes ever since they arrived for they disturbed me deeply. I know that look. That desperate look hidden by layers and layers of false serenity and finesse. Only now I could see the owner of those tortured eyes: A beautiful dusky blonde inside a tiny black dress. She smiled at me, blowing some smoke. I looked down, feeling caught. “Who were you staring at?” Vita asked. “Don’t look now, but who is she?” I returned with another question, using my glass to point to the girl “I don’t know. Why? Interested?” Her jealousy hit me like violent kiss on my neck. Not kind but not bad. “Don’t be such a fool. She’s stalking me, I guess. I don't know. She won’t stop starring. Would you mind being more discrete?” She was impolitely looking at the blonde now, who seemed not to mind at all. “Oh.” She narrowed her eyes at me, finishing her glass of wine. “I don’t know. Who cares. Probably another paparazzi who sneaked in to take a good look on you.” She knew she was being mean. “I gotta go talk to the DJ, I’ll find you later.” Vita got up and vanished in the crowd, leaving me by myself, burning with the grey eye’s gaze. “Who is she?” I whispered to myself, staring at my empty glass of wine.

 

                                                                                                                      **(…)**

 

            Vita never came back. I was still alone on a table for two, now starring at not one, but five empty glasses. “Do you mind if I sit here?” I heard a sweet voice behind me. I turned around. The stalker blonde. “S-sure”. I said in a whisper and she pulled herself the other chair. “I’m Sylvia. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Virginia.” I looked up at her. She had the most adorable smile I’ve ever seen, an odd but dazzling plus to her damaged gaze. The gaze so much like the one I watch everyday while looking in the mirror. “The pleasure is mine.” I answered, quite automatically. “Oh, happy birthday! How could I have forgotten?!” She gave me a tiny nervous laughter and I realized I was probably making her feel weird. I smiled, shyly. “Oh, please, don’t you mind.” Pause. “Are you friends with Vita?” I knew the answer for this but I _needed_ to know something - anything - about her. “No, I am not.” She answered, calm. “I live in Devon with my husband. A friend of his gave us the invitations. Sorry for crushing, actually.” We both laughed. “No worries. Is your husband here?” I ask, an attempt to chat. “No. He was busy with work – or busy fucking our renter, as you prefer.” “Oh.” I didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry, I mean, this is none of your business. I’m really sorry.” I said nothing, so she continued. “I really wanted to have a chance to meet you so I came by my own.” “A chance to meet _me_?” “Yes.” She was smiling again. “I’m a huge fan of your work.” “Thank you.” I looked down, being shy and stupid again. She was too pretty and seemed so secure it was intimidating. We remained in silent for a moment while the waiter came and offered us more wine. She took two glasses and handed me one. “Are you a writer too?” I asked, taking a sip. “I am, indeed.” She answered. “You are American, right? Your accent.” I was probably sounding like a fool for making too many questions but her sweet smile was making me melt slowly. “Yes, I’m from Boston.” We talked for hours with no interruptions, drinking wine and listening to the fine instrumental music they were playing like it was a soundtrack from an after school special.

                It started as small talk, but soon we were telling each other the stories of our lives like we knew one another for ages. I was finding her the most interesting person I’ve met in months. She was so joyful despite her pain. Sometimes I feel weird because I am never fully sincere around anyone. I’m always hiding, always ashamed. And this girl came out of nowhere making me feel like talking again. Not only talking, but dancing, laughing, eating – truly living again. This girl came out of nowhere and I felt like if she just stayed I wouldn’t fade away. If it wasn’t for the sudden voice of my big sister I would have probably forgotten that we were at my freaking birthday party at all.

            “Virginia, I was looking for you!” Vanessa's cheeks were red from alcohol. She looked at Sylvia and frowned as asking _who the hell_. “Oh, Vanessa, my dear, let me introduce you my new friend. This is Sylvia Plath. American poet. Brilliant woman. She’ll be moving to London soon.” I was quite drunk myself so I couldn’t be embarrassed by the situation and if Plath was, she was also a great actress. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Bell!” She got up, giving my sister a hand shake. “Please, call me Vanessa.” She looked at me. “I was looking for you. Vita wants to sing Happy Birthday and cut the cake.” I rolled my eyes. “Please, don’t make me.” My sister laughed. “I don’t have a choice. You agreed with this whole thing.” Sylvia gave us a wondering look but remained silent. “I’ll be there in a couple minutes, okay?” I said to Vanessa who disappeared in the crowd again. I turned to Sylvia. “How do you feel about leaving?” I asked.

                I was, indeed, aware about how reckless this was but I couldn’t think about any other thing to say. I knew her for about three or four hours but I couldn’t stand another minute of my own life and, apparently, neither did she. “What do you mean?” She finished her wine, blinking to avoid the dazedness. “We were once young, reckless and vain. And now... Everything seems so hopeless. I'm tired. I don’t know. I want to get you know you better. Preferably away from this madness.” I was speaking nonsense but surprisingly, she was smiling so hard that made her eyes look tiny. “Oh, Virginia.” She whispered. “Meet me at the parking lot.” She said, after a moment. “We better walk out separately.”

 

                                                                                                                     **(…)**

            Everything seemed lightful and wild while I was running through those magnificent gardens to meet my new runaway friend. _My new runaway friend._ I heard the clock beating three in the morning. I understood that sensation of being observed as the sensation of being seen. I was hit by a feeling of recognition – it was new and genuinely good. Those tortured grey eyes needed salvation just as mine and perhaps salvation would be just getting lost together. Getting lost on each other. My face was hurting from all the smiling I had in the last hours. She was at the parking lot’s gate when I arrived, smoking, rosy cheeks and a huge, sweet smile on her lips. I couldn’t help but hold her face with both of my hands and give her a soft quick kiss. _It’s my pleasure to meet you_. She held me by my waist and whispered in my ear: “I'm done of being crazy, mother, wife, journalist, writer... I just want to be me. And... You know, I’ve been falling in love for so many people, places, things all my life I’ve been living so near an explosion and...” I snuggled my face on her shoulders. “Let’s just live now.” I whispered back, watered eyes. We stayed there for a moment, until several voices from inside started to call my name. We let go of our embrace and held each other’s hands. “Should we travel by train?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. I nodded and we walked out free, wild, new – complete.


End file.
